


anathema

by niccals



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, also i finished it at like half past one and i have school tomorrow hahaaaa save me, i wrote this in like an hour as a shitty lil angst thing so apologies if it's not very good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 10:11:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18569278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niccals/pseuds/niccals
Summary: there were the times when he felt overwhelming anathema for the world around him, and couldn’t bare to face anyone or anything. on those days he was usually left alone.





	anathema

alex’s mind was a bit of a taboo subject. he never talked to anyone about it and did his damn best to hide it. just the thought of having someone know he wasn’t doing okay mentally was enough to make his chest tighten and his brain swirl with angry confusion. _i’m not supposed to feel unhappy. no one can know that i do_.

he decided it was all a bit fucked up, really; the way his brain worked. the way he woke up late in the afternoon and had to bite back the urge to go right back to sleep. maybe he’d sluggishly work on a video, sometimes he would go bother george or whoever was in the flat when he was awake.

then there were times when he didn’t get out of bed. when that crippling darkness whipped around his body, mixing black ooze into his brain and pressing down on his chest. there were the times when he felt overwhelming anathema for the world around him, and couldn’t bare to face anyone or anything. on those days he was usually left alone. sometimes george would come and check on him, sometimes will or james would. it was nothing more than a quick exchange of words and alex trying to convince them that he was doing fine so he could have the room to himself again. no one ever questioned it, just let him have his off days.

there was a point at which alex realised things weren’t getting better. he’d uploaded a video and promptly felt the familiar dark wind enter through his chest, squeezing at his heart before floating throughout his bones, wrapping them in a feeling that made them feel hollow. by the time it reached his brain he had already switched off the lights, locked the door and crawled under his duvet.

he woke up sometime the next day with the familiar ache still present in his bones. he could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, but that was about it. alex wished in that moment that he just wouldn’t have woken up. he decided that anything was better than having to wake up, expecting to feel something but instead feeling the same shitty way he did when he went to sleep.

alex couldn’t describe how much he hated being depressed. it was simply a nuisance. it took the things from him that he needed to stay afloat. how is he supposed to feel less lonely when he can’t even build up the strength to switch his phone on? how is he supposed to distract himself by recording or editing a video when he only just built up the strength to roll over? he can’t even shut his brain up by eating all the food in the kitchen because it all just tastes like cardboard.

he gets out of bed, though. pulls on sweatpants and some hoodie off the ground and walks into the kitchen to make a bowl of cereal. george is in there when he walks in. alex doesn’t pay him any mind, just grabbing the first cereal box he sees first and a bowl.

“are you okay?” is the first thing george says. alex freezes up for a second, biting his lip into his mouth and looking over at george.

“of course.” alex nods. _no, i’m not_.

“you sure?” george raises an eyebrow.

“yes, i’m fine.” alex confirms and turns to finish his cereal. _please help me_.

alex leaves to his room after that. he locks the door behind him and sets the bowl down on his desk, sitting in front of it.

alex manages to eat about half of the bowl before he decides it’s no better than trying to eat a block of clay. the milk tastes sour and the cereal feels like rocks scratching down his throat.

he naps after that. he sleeps until it’s dark out and stares at the ceiling, brain providing him with harsh words when he eventually wakes up. he doesn’t know when he finally went back to sleep, though he assumed it must’ve been in the early hours of the morning because he vaguely remembered watching sunlight stream through the darkness.

alex expected to be better by time he woke up next. maybe he’d feel something more, feel any ounce of motivation. that wasn’t it though. and it wouldn’t be for a long time.

he’d been stuck in a permanent gloomy state for around a month. he was dehydrated, probably lacking in some essential nutrients and had only had any human contact about five times.

he didn’t know when it happened, but alex decided that sleeping was better than living. it was a substitute for death, he assumed, while he was still relevant in people’s lives. he was just watching time pass, waiting until he fell off the radar so that he could finally have eternal peace. maybe be reborn into a better life, maybe there was a heaven or hell when you died that he’d pay a visit to, but maybe he’d just cease to exist. he’d take it, though. he’d take anything over this feeling.

at some point george had called james to come over and check up on alex. seeing as alex downright refused to talk to george anymore and was probably going to end up starving to death, calling james over to try and talk things out with alex probably seemed like a rational idea. out of everyone he knew, alex could safely admit james was the one he trusted the most. he always found it easier to talk about his state of mind, things he wanted to do, things that had happened in his life. alex didn’t have a clue why he couldn’t feel like that around george or will or fraser, and to be quite frank, he carried around a guilty conscience for it a lot of the time.

alex was curled up in a fetal position in the dark when james came in and sat, tentatively, on the edge of the younger’s bed. alex glanced over at him, dazed and eternally tired.

they talked. they talked about everything there was. alex had told james about how he’d been stuck in this dark pit for a long time, and everything just got so much worse and he couldn’t stop it. alex sluggishly leaned against his side at some point, and james responded by wrapping an arm around alex’s waist.

through his sick, twisted thought pattern, and more powerful than the painful thorns wrapping around his brain, something james told him just hit him hard.

“things won’t always be like this.” james had whispered to alex, rubbing his back. alex felt himself begin to sob because, for the first time in a long time, alex was beginning to believe in that again.


End file.
